….and so love is not a warm bed,
nor is it socks and shoes
and I must dig in dumpsters.
But this is not the life I choose.
They shun me and they look away,
and I just shuffle by.
And when I settle in at night,
I shrug and start to cry.
No one could possibly know,
how much pain I shield from them
by simply looking at the ground,
while I hum a little hymn.
I hold a paper cup.
And I hope for just some change.
There’s a sharp, cold wind tonight,
and my rags, I rearrange.
Will I get noticed on the morrow,
with a welcome from humanity?
And when the shelter closes,
I’m just another absentee.
I’m a leper and a loser,
a reminder that life’s a bitch.
Who out here would notice me?
Most assuredly not the rich.
Shelby I Courtland
© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland